A Chance to put things Right
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: The Orb of Time. One of the most powerful artefacts in the galaxy. Capable of allowing someone to travel back in time to an event to change it, and Arne Darvin sees his chance to change history and become a hero of the Klingon Empire. All he has to do is find a way of killing James T. Kirk.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Star Trek The Original Series, nor Star Trek Deep Space Nine. I just own this story.

Please let me know what you think.

A/N - I know the consensus is that Arne Darvin learnt of the Orb of Time on Cardassia, but for this story, he had learnt about the Orb a long time before that and had chased after it since it offered him a chance to change history.

This story takes place in the DS9 episode which, for me, is one of the greatest episodes in Star Trek "Trials and Tribble-ations."

* * *

A Chance to put things Right.

As he walked into his ship, throwing the bag which he had used to take the wares about the Cardassian homeworld onto a chair, Barry Waddle checked the security systems he had installed into the ship he had bought years ago to replace the outdated model he'd had previously. He was relieved that no-one had broken into his ship, though why that would be since to them he was nothing more than a _mundane human _merchant, wandering from one measly planet to the next, selling things that were sold so frequently it was a surprise there was even a market for them.

Still, you had to make a living somewhere, didn't you?

_Oh, I hate this life! _

Waddle kicked a chair angrily out of the way. It was standing close to the airlock door, and he was frustrated.

_How did it come to think?_

Closing his eyes, Waddle calmed himself down.

Waddle closed the ship doors up before he went into the kitchenette and prepared a meal for himself; sometimes he missed his old ship with his real cooking implements, the real cooker, and the space dedicated to preparing ordinary food. The modern replicator was good because it didn't take up so much valuable space which the previous kitchen on his old ship had done before Waddle had sold it off in order to purchase his new ship had done, but sometimes Waddle wished he had the means of making some real food so then he would have the time to properly think to himself.

Once he had his meal, a traditional Klingon dish complete with a glass of hot bloodwine, Waddle walked into the dining area and started to eat slowly; he had long since been practiced to eat slowly without gorging himself on his dish like some animal, though each time he did he couldn't help but recall how difficult it had been when he had been trained to eat like a human and eat their infantile foods. It had been a chore, but over time he had grown used to it, and now it was second nature but since he usually ate in public, it wouldn't do to eat like a Klingon.

He would probably have something real tomorrow for breakfast, in one of the Cardassians many cantinas which dotted their spaceports and in different areas of their city, and he would have time to listen to the news of the Klingon raiding parties which had become a thorn in the side of the Cardassian military for the last few months.

Waddle made a face as he thought about the Klingon invasion. While he could understand his people's actions, mostly derived from fear of the Dominion, a threat from the Gamma Quadrant which had been opened up thanks to the discovery of the Bajoran wormhole a few years ago, and their leaders who were apparently a group of shapeshifters, Waddle knew Gowron was mostly posturing by saying the Empire needed to expand in order to survive.

While he agreed with Gowron, Waddle genuinely did not care. He had been kicked out of the Empire, away from his House, his family, and his life for good.

Barry Waddle was not human. He was a Klingon. He had gone by many names over the years. But he was known to Starfleet Intelligence by the name of Arne Darvin, and Gralmek in Klingon Intelligence. He wasn't sure if KI members were warned about him or were given photos of his human likeness since those bastard surgeons had used such primitive methods to disguise him as a human so he couldn't return to looking like a Klingon, but he wouldn't put it past them.

As he continued to eat his meal, Darvin, Gralmek, or Waddle, reflected on his life.

He'd had the misfortune of being born as a runt. While other Klingon children had received the Kolar beasts share of muscle, he had been short in stature and he'd been ridiculed as a result. Despite years and years of trying to push himself into being a warrior, his body simply would not take it to the disgust and shame of himself and that of his father and grandfather, who were both warriors who had made impressive names for themselves in the Empire. That was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation he had faced when he was the Klingon equivalent of a teenager. In the end, his father and mother had had another child, one who took after his father more than him.

When he had joined Klingon Intelligence with the desire to contribute something to the Empire, he had the opportunity to help the Empire gain new holdings under the Organian Peace Treaty. He hadn't known he would be surgically altered to appear human. Darvin remembered the mind-numbing pain his body had endured while he had been strapped down while the Klingon doctors altered him to resemble a human. He recalled his disgust and fury that not only was the procedure permanent, but Klingon medicine was so primitive, there was no chance he could once more look like a Klingon should unless he asked his enemy, the Federation.

He'd then had to learn how to become human. It hadn't been easy. He had been forced to speak softly and gently, eating the same food (he had no idea how his people had come by the stuff humans called food, but he had gained a taste for them over the years) as humans did, while all the time preparing for his mission.

His mission was; derail the colonisation of Sherman's Planet by the poisoning of the grain Quadrotrictacale with a virus which would cause the colonists of Sherman's Planet to starve to death. Ironic, really.

He had worked for Nilz Harris, and while he had originally found the human pompous and ignorant, Darvin had soon come to respect him and his single-minded desire for his own task to be completed. It wasn't often, but Darvin sometimes met humans who had the willpower that a Klingon warrior would admire. Unfortunately, Baris lacked control over his senses.

Sometimes he would be quite paranoid, and as a result, he was prone to acts of stupidity. He was scared the Klingons would derail his project, completely ignorant to the fact the Klingons _couldn't work that way _with the Organian's around, and he had issued a priority one call which brought the….

Darvin closed his eyes.

Hatred, potent hatred, which had not been dulled down for the last century, boiled inside of him. Darvin had never stopped hating James T. Kirk even if a part of him would always admire the man even if he was arrogant. Darvin had hoped to poison the grain shortly before it was shipped out to its destination. Unfortunately with the increased Starfleet presence on the station, it was not possible. He had made a choice. He had infected the grain, but how was he supposed to know those miserable, fuzzy tribbles were going to find their way into the grain and be found by Kirk who would launch an investigation into what killed them, which would lead to Darvin being exposed?

Thinking about his exposure made Darvin think about the long months he'd been held incarcerated by the Federation before the Empire agreed to a prisoners' exchange, and how the Klingon High Council had discommended him for his failure after spending months working on getting him back because they were frightened that he'd give away more of the Empire's secrets.

They needn't have worried; just because he had crumbled under pressure because he just wanted to get away from the tribbles, did not mean he would do that.

Darvin had been expelled from Klingon space, and he had been warned if he was ever found and his identity discovered, he would be killed instantly for his failures. His people did not make idle threats, and so he had spent the last century eking out a meagre living for himself as a merchant.

And now he was here on Cardassia Prime. Darvin had always avoided Cardassia because even when the place was peaceful, the Obsidian Order had been a force to be reckoned with.

But now the Order was gone after their fleet had been destroyed in the Gamma Quadrant when they had gone to find and destroy the Founder's homeworld. Darvin could admire them for that, but he felt they should have been more cautious, and built up their forces before taking the fight to the Dominion itself. But the good news was, with the Order gone, Darvin would be able to come to the planet he had been trying to reach for a while.

Only he knew he couldn't, not with the Order around.

The Obsidian Order would have discovered who he really was. And then he would be killed. He wouldn't have known anything about the Klingons worth using, so there would be no point in keeping him alive.

When he was finished with eating his meal, wiping his mouth as he did which was something else which distanced him from other Klingons who wouldn't have bothered with such etiquette, Darvin walked over to the computer and he scanned the screen; he had hacked the Cardassian computer network shortly after he had arrived. It hadn't been easy, but it hadn't been difficult either; with the Obsidian Order out of the way, and the Detapa Council and the Central Command wrangling on how best to keep the civilians in line, although if they planned to find a way of bringing the Order back, which was possible thanks to the skills of the agents who were still out there, Darvin didn't know. All he was interested in was finding what he was trying to look for.

Suddenly he stopped.

He had just found a report from the Deptapa Council saying that the Cardassians were planning on sending back an Orb belonging to the Bajoran people.

That made sense.

The Cardassians had been under tremendous pressure by Starfleet, the Bajoran government, and the Federation Council that if it wanted help they would need to return everything the Cardassians had stolen from Bajor during their occupation. Darvin was a bit dubious the Federation council would go _that _far considering their habit of giving things away for free if needed in humanitarian aid relief, but the Bajorans had probably spoken to the council to ask for the Bajoran treasures, but however it was done Darvin did not know and did not particularly care.

All he was interested in was that they had succeeded and now some of the orbs which the Cardassians had taken from Bajoran shrines dotted all over Bajor during the half a century occupation which had ravaged the planet and left it a shambles had been sent back.

And the orb Darvin had been waiting for had finally made its way to the top of the list.

The Orb of Time.

Darvin didn't know what to make of the Bajoran religion. He knew there was something to it, that it had to do with beings that dwelt within the wormhole on the edge of Bajoran space. He had even opened an orb once, although he had at the time been planning on stealing and selling it for some cash.

But when he had opened it….

He'd had a vision.

Once he had gone through the experience, Darvin had studied the orbs to learn more about them, and he had discovered the existence of the Orb of Time, and once he had discovered its properties, Darvin had wanted to track it down and use it. But he had lost interest and given up hope of getting to it because it was on Cardassia.

Another Klingon would have risked Cardassian territory defences and the Obsidian Order. Not Darvin. He knew how dangerous the Order was. In any case, he had no idea where the Orb was, so there was no chance of getting to it. But now the Obsidian Order was gone - an act of the Bajoran prophets, or just plain fate, he didn't know.

All he knew was the Cardassians were getting rid of the Bajoran artefacts they'd looted as if they were their own in order to gain support against the Klingon invasion. And now the Orb of Time was on the list. Darvin knew he had to get to it, he had to get to the Orb and use it to give him a chance to put things right.

It wouldn't be easy. While the Federation were complacent, they would have precautions in store for anyone who would be trying to attempt to steal the Orb, but they weren't expecting him.

* * *

Darvin followed the tall figure of Mr Worf through the corridors of the USS Defiant. It had been a good week since he had heard that the Orb of Time was being returned to Bajor, and as one of the closest Starfleet outposts to Cardassian territory, it made sense the Cardassians would expect the Defiant. The ship was well known in this part of space as being tough and capable of fighting against the Klingons four to one, not that Darvin had cared because whether the ship was the Defiant or another Federation starship, he would still be getting to the Orb.

The Starfleet crew had probably already put it in a room someplace where it would remain safe for the duration of the trip. That was no trouble - a bit of elementary computer hacking would give him the place, as well as a route to the nearest transporter room and then he would begin putting the next stages of his plan into operation.

Granted, he was relieved the ship was the Defiant because the vessel was smaller than a conventional starship. It was a surprise the Federation, an organisation which prided itself on peace and diplomacy would be in the practice of designing and constructing ships that were practical for war.

In a way, being on the Defiant was appropriate, oddly.

The ship with its claustrophobic and cramped feel reminded him of the functional and equally compact layout of a Klingon Bird-Of-Prey. The ship even came with its own Klingon, in the shape of Worf, the infamous son of Mogh.

Darvin was familiar with his story of course, but unlike other Klingons, he didn't spit at the name because he had gone against the Chancellor for not supporting the mad rampage through the Alpha Quadrant. No, in many ways Darvin and Worf were alike, although if Worf realised who he was and what had happened, the other Klingon would be disgusted by him. But Darvin genuinely felt for Worf. During his exile, Darvin's views towards his own race had dulled into a kind of contempt since he saw the Klingons from the other side as fools, and Gowron was the latest example; K'mpec and Gorkon were the exceptions since both had ruled with genuine honour and integrity.

And besides, Gowron was a fool of the highest level for rampaging through the Alpha Quadrant and saying it was the only way to make the Alpha Quadrant strong enough to fight down the Dominion.

Well, Darvin had already given a lot of thought to that, and he considered the Empire foolish for going that far even if he applauded them for returning to the old ways.

Darvin was led into what had to be the mess hall of the ship - it wasn't much - it was just a larger than average room with metal chairs and tables designed for functionality with a row of replicators on the wall - and he saw two humans in Starfleet uniforms; one wore a gold/black uniform with curly brown hair with something in his eyes that put the Klingon in Darvin in mind of some of the more seasoned warriors who had seen glory and yet had become bored with it over time. The other wore a blue/black uniform and had darker hair with a slightly darker skin tone with big expressive eyes that put the surgically-altered Klingon in mind of a child who was seeing the world.

"Humans!" Darvin gushed and headed for the table with a wide smile. "I never thought I'd see another normal face again."

"This is Mr Waddle," Worf introduced for the benefit of the two men.

Darvin smiled at the two and held out his hands for the two Starfleet officers to shake. "Barry. Call me Barry," he added as he shook their hands.

"We are taking him back to the Federation. He was trapped on Cardassia when the Klingons attacked," Worf explained while at the same time Darvin wondered if he should dial down his _enthusiasm _a little bit.

While it was essential for the crew to see him just as good old _harmless _Barry Waddle, Darvin did not want to push it. At the same time, he was genuinely glad to see different people rather than Cardassians day after day.

"I'm a merchant," Darvin said. "I deal in gemstones, devas and trillium mostly. May I..?" he gestured at the replicators.

"Help yourself," the officer with the gold trim in his uniform replied.

Nodding his thanks, Darvin walked over to the replicators. "Do you know what Cardassians drink in the morning? Fish juice, hot fish juice," he said as he went towards one of the replicators, speaking the name of the traditional Cardassian beverage in distaste; while he had grown accustomed to being forced to eat and drink the cuisines of other races over the years and had developed a taste for some of it, that did not mean he had to like any of it.

"Raktajino," Darvin ordered, still speaking even as he reached his hand out for the mug. "After six months, I was hoping the Klingons would invade."

He took a sniff of the drink, letting his senses take in the familiar smell that gave him longing for home.

He might not like what he had been forced to do since Kirk had exposed him, but that didn't mean he didn't miss home…

Darvin decided to continue laying the foundations of his cover. "At least they know how to make coffee. Even if they are foul-smelling barbarians."

The moment that he said that, Darvin winced as he took in Worf's reaction. "Sorry," he stuttered and walked away to find a table where she could sit and drink.

Over his shoulder, he heard the two Starfleet officers joke around at Worf's expense. But he paid no attention to what his fellow Klingon was going through. He was thinking about his plans. He had done it. He had boarded the Defiant with the Orb of Time onboard, and he had managed to do so without Starfleet being any the wiser about who he was.

Darvin wasn't really worried about his ship; if all went according to plan, he wouldn't be what he was now. He would be a hero of the Empire. His ship would be under the control of somebody else.

If not…

Well, he wasn't going to think about that. As he nursed the raktajino, relishing the rich taste as it went down his throat, Darvin thought about the parts of the tricobalt bomb he had smuggled on board the ship. It hadn't been difficult to get them on board, much to his surprise and dismay; clearly, Starfleet trusted the Cardassians just a little bit too much.

_Oh, how times have changed, _Darvin thought to himself as he remembered how paranoid the Federation was with the Klingons.

Still, he had smuggled the components on board and now they were inside his cabin. It would have been suicidal to bring them on the ship in one piece, but in pieces no-one would bat an eyelid since many people took pieces of technology along with them. He wouldn't put them together until he was on K7 when he had access to one of the industrial facilities which he knew would be empty from what he remembered.

* * *

It didn't take long for Darvin to find out where on the Defiant the Orb was being held. It had just required a few minutes of hacking using a century's worth of experience; his people had taught him the basics and their intelligence operatives had given him a few hints and tips on how to beat Starfleet computers if he was near them, and he had tested his knowledge on the Lexington when it had taken him to K7 before he had regularly hacked the stations records and classified files, taking advantage of the lax security which surprised him since the station was so close to the Klingon border.

Anything else he had just picked up over the years.

Once he had found it, Darvin got ready. He packed away the pieces of the tricobalt bomb he had been putting together for the last few days into his pockets, and at the same time he picked up the copy of his logs which he had recorded around the 23rd century on his mission to Deep Space K7. He had held onto them for years, but he had never imagined or anticipated using them like this. He was surprised to find his fingers were shaking from nerves. An automatic sneer crossed his face before he controlled it.

Darvin remembered how his family had mocked him for his size and build when he had been a child on Qo'nos. He recalled how he had been mocked for cowardice simply because whenever the moment arrived, in spite of his best efforts, he was forever nervous. It was something that had never left him in his life.

But while he resented his nerves he wasn't surprised in the least because like when he had tried to become a Klingon Warrior and become a respected member of his house after years and years of ridicule though only in his fantasies would he have won a glorious battle and come home to _accept _his families' respect after years of being put down, he was nervous now.

But as of then, this was an important moment in his life.

Only this time he was determined to change history.

Darvin was aware so many things could go wrong and he was determined to ensure it went right and without the Defiant crew interfering although he knew there was no doubt they would try to stop him, he was hoping that by the time they found him, James T. Kirk would be dead and there would be nothing they could do.

Darvin clenched his fists together to regain control over himself, but he couldn't help himself.

This was the moment.

The chance he had been waiting for without really knowing it for a century until he had travelled to Bajor in order to trade in a few items to make a living.

After packing away the parts of the bomb and the other things he felt he would need to make his self-appointed task easier to accomplish, Darvin left the cabin and into the darkened corridors which meant the ship was running under cloak - it was weird that the Federation had access to a cloaking device, but it made his job slightly easier because he could hide in the shadows if he needed to - and headed off in the direction of the room where the Orb was being kept in while he used the small PADD he had downloaded the map on as a guide.

On the way, he passed a few Starfleet officers. He nodded politely to them while he had an excuse on the tip of his tongue ready in case they asked him any stupid questions, but fortunately only a few of them actually bothered to ask.

When Darvin arrived at the corridor, he wasn't surprised when he saw the person on guard. Darvin watched as he paced up and down in a manner which told Darvin he was bored. Darvin closed his eyes and collected his energy before he pulled out a small phaser and shot the deputy down. Darvin walked over to the body cautiously, half expecting alarms to go off, but none did. As he looked down at the body, Darvin couldn't help but feel a stirring of satisfaction. It didn't take Darvin long to find the guard's door key. It was clear the Starfleet captain, Sisko if Darvin remembered rightly, had obviously wanted to have someone with the key which contained the door code so no one else could get inside.

Another stroke of good luck.

Once he was inside the cabin, Darvin walked inside to check the Orb was there. Once he saw it, he went back and dragged the unconscious guard inside. The Bajoran clearly had a concussion but that made no difference to Darvin, who knew he was now on borrowed time. He had no idea how long it would take before the Starfleeters worked out what he had done, but that didn't mean someone couldn't come here on impulse.

When he was finished dumping the Bajoran guard in a heap on the floor, Darvin walked slowly towards the Orb. It amazed him that something so simple looking in appearance even if it gave off an impression of power could affect him.

He had encountered Bajoran Orbs before.

When he had visited Bajor a year after the Cardassians had withdrawn, he had travelled there to make new trades and while he had been shunned because of his alien nature, Darvin had seen nothing wrong in stealing an Orb when he had found his wares were unwelcome on the planet.

When he had opened it, he had been catapulted into an experience he hadn't expected, and once it was over he had researched the Orbs completely before he had discovered the Orb of Time. It had occurred to him that he could use that particular Orb to travel back into the past and put things right.

In truth, the Orb of Time was the only time travel device he could access; the so-called 'Guardian of Forever' was in quarantined space and no-one could reach it with all the Starfleet patrols, but now the Orb was in his grasp it wasn't relevant now.

Darvin reverently stepped closer towards the Orb and he was about to open it up so he could begin, but as he did he paused as he tried to work out the right date he wanted to reach. When he had been on Bajor, he had broken into dozens of places in search of knowledge about the Orb in front of him, so when he found it at last or had the opportunity to be in the same room as it, he would know how to use it.

For the Orb to work, you needed a clear idea of where and when you wanted to go.

He had the where alright.

But the when was a little bit more complex.

For a moment he was tempted to travel back in time to before the Enterprise even arrived or when Klingon ship commanded by that fool who had forced his hand was there.

No. He decided the best time would be when the Enterprise was already orbiting the station and before Koloth arrived with the IKS Groth. The longer he was on the station, the more difficult it would be to get his plan put into operation, and with the Enterprise being the only ship close to the station there was reduced chance of discovery.

But then he remembered that Cyrano Jones had been onboard the station before the Enterprise was summoned. Yes, that was perfect. With Jones on the station, the tribbles would breed and breed…

_Yes!_

In the end, Darvin decided to direct his thoughts to the time after Jones had boarded the station so then it would give him the time to get his plans into motion, giving him just 19-20 hours.

Destination time fixed in mind, Darvin opened the Orb and smiled at the hovering and rotating tear-drop shaped jewel of light inside before there was a flash of golden-red light and everything blurred…

And then it returned to normal.

Darvin closed the Orb and checked the computer. He nodded when he saw the Defiant's computers were shaken by the surge of chroniton particles, but as sensors came online he checked them and saw that it was the Earth year 2267, Stardate 4523.7.

_I'm here. At last, a chance to put things right. _

Darvin grinned and rubbed his hands in delight before he remembered he had to get out fast before anyone came in, and he went down the corridors to the transporter room. He had no idea how long it would take before the Defiant crew discovered what he had done, knowing Starfleet they were probably trying to work out what had happened to them before they reached that stage. But he needed to get out now while they were still stunned.

The transporter room was mercifully empty, so Darvin had no problem slotting in the small data-cartridge he had prepared even as the targeting scanners reset themselves to cope with the trip. Once the computer virus he had prepared infiltrated the transporter's computer systems to override the annoying Starfleet security protocols, Darvin grinned when the lighting in the room brightened up as the virus overrode the cloaking device so he could use the transporter - it was an annoying fact of reality that cloaks couldn't be used in times when the transporter was needed, and when he had learnt the Defiant was coming, he had made preparations.

Remembering the old Constitution-class starship's scanning cycle but only just, Darvin took it into account before he activated the transporter.

Darvin stepped onto the pad when he was finished inputting the coordinates and he waited for the transporter to activate and beam him onboard K7 in one of the disused storage bays. He wasn't worried about the cartridge. It had performed its job, but it didn't contain any useful information and even if they could reclaim some of the information he had wiped there was no way it would help.

With the files wiped the Defiant crew would waste hours and hours searching for him on both the Enterprise and the space station. But Darvin knew K7 better than they, and it would be simple for him to find places to hide without really trying.

Just because they would study the stations' layout from the specifications in the Defiant's database did not mean they would know where to look. Station K7 was full of rooms, storage bays, and industrial facilities that were not guarded, and there were maintenance areas that would be perfect places for him to hide out until the time was right to carry out his plans.

_Soon, Kirk, _he thought to himself as the transporter activated within seconds of him stepping onto the pad, _you will be dead and I will, at last, have my life back on track! _


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Star Trek Deep Space Nine or Star Trek The Original Series, I just own this story.

Feel free to leave feedback since I am doing something different.

* * *

A Chance to put things Right.

_The problem with being suddenly thrust into your own past, to meddle in your own history, _Darvin mused to himself as he sat on a bunk in one of the disused maintenance workmen's cabins in one of the equally disused parts of K7 which had the benefit of having a small but simple viewport which gave him a view of what was outside the station at the moment, _is even if you know what's going to happen, and have a good idea when its going to happen, is you need to spend most of your time waiting. _

Part of the problem was Darvin had to accept for himself he hadn't really thought about time travel until he had journeyed to Bajor; his priorities after he had become an outcast in Klingon society was to survive and to keep on the move whenever Klingons showed up, while ironically spending his time moving through Federation space and relying on his altered appearance and his mastery of their language to keep him alive, so time travel was just something he had heard about in passing.

Oh, he had considered the possibilities of journeying back in time and killing Kirk before the Starfleet captain had the chance to expose him and the Federation's successful colonisation of Sherman's Planet went through without a hitch under the terms of that wretched treaty. But he had pushed the idea of travelling back in time for the simple reason he couldn't even duplicate or even find the time travel machine that had sent Starfleet's officer's blundering around in the past or the future. In any case, it had only been a fleeting thought.

But now he was here, in the past where everything had gone wrong for his career when he had been so _positive _he would bring back a great victory for the Klingon Empire without a shot being fired, Darvin realised he hadn't considered what he was going to be doing in the meantime. The same uncertainty made him decide not to visit his younger self, even though he knew it was a bad move. Even if he could pass on intelligence that wouldn't be coming out for a long time, the younger Darvin wouldn't listen.

And besides, if he changed history, who was to say those events would unfold as Darvin remembered, or if they even happened at all?

Shortly after transporting onto K7, he had gone to the bar after getting the local time to get an idea of what was going on in the station so then he could judge the best time for him to plant the tricobalt bomb he planned to use to kill Kirk and to change history completely; his younger self never used it during the times he was on duty, so there was no chance they would meet by accident. It was risky going to the bar, especially since he had made the mistake of ordering a raktajino but it was more of an automatic thing, really. He had been ordering the drink frequently ever since the relationship between the Klingons and the Federation became more and more amicable after Praxis' destruction, and it began to be more available, and so ordering it on worlds within the Federation had become second nature.

The girl hadn't known what it was so he had been forced to change his order. But the worrying thing was he had left a trail for the Defiant crew; he had no doubt in his mind one of them might try to order the drink without realising it wasn't as common here despite being so close to the border. But there was nothing Darvin could do about it now, but the Defiant crew would definitely realise he was on K7 though truthfully what would make them think he was on the Enterprise he didn't know even if the idea of them wasting hours and hours looking for him was fun.

No matter.

The fact he had left a breadcrumb, as the humans said, for them to find was trivial. Just because they'd get confirmation he was on the station, they wouldn't know where to look; K7 was a big place, and there were areas the Defiant crew wouldn't be able to reach. When Darvin had arrived he had studied the place thoroughly in case something went wrong and he needed a place to hide, and while it wasn't the Klingon way to hide and cower in an airshaft, it was simply common sense and with the occasional moment of heightened paranoia which had soon become a part of his daily routine, Darvin had certainly learnt to study the place, and he had been motivated to do it quickly. But truthfully he knew he wouldn't need to look too far for a place to hide. K7 had dozens of disused cabins, and even if the legendary Odo who was a part of the Defiant crew thought about the idea to simply look inside each cabin, there were just simply too many of them so he wasn't worried.

All he had to do now was to wait until the tribbles were multiplying like mad before he went down to the storage compartments of the station to plant his bomb. Working out the time was easy enough in itself. He had just checked out the logs he had recorded meticulously for posterity which contained the time he had poisoned the grain to the time when he had been caught out, knowing that in that time the tribbles were starting to appear everywhere on the station. There were a few issues with the timing; the biggest was he had no idea just when the tribbles would be inside the compartment and how long it would take before they were killed.

The virus worked fast, but from what he had learnt there had been dozens of tribbles inside the compartment when Kirk had opened it up and discovered the lot of them were either dead or dying. While it would be simple for him to just wait in the storage compartment area, he didn't want to be discovered either by a passing security officer, and he definitely did not want to be anywhere near one of the tribbles and listen to its high-pitched screeching.

Once was more than enough.

Anyway, once he had worked out his timing, he had begun putting his plan into effect.

Once he was finished with his time in the bar, Darvin had headed for one of the industrial fabrication facilities where he had finally assembled the tricobalt bomb. Finding an empty workshop with the simple tools he needed to finish the bomb had been simplicity in itself; K7's security was lax as it was, but there were few technicians and workforces needed to make them used. Darvin had cleaned up after himself to remove any traces of what he had done, but once he had finished he had found a cabin and he had just sat down on the bunk with nothing better to do but to wait.

As he sat waiting on the bunk without anything to do except to keep an eye on the wall clock so then he had a way of knowing when to move, Darvin had the obvious problem of not even knowing what he should be doing except to keep his head down and wait for his younger self to poison the quadrotriticale and for the tribbles to find their way through the airshafts to get into the compartment. To an outside observer, that might be an easy task, particularly since he had worked out from his visit to the bar whether Jones was on the station at all and generally getting an idea of what was going on in order to jog his memory of the events, but it wouldn't be simple with the heightened Starfleet security force on the station, to say nothing of the Klingon soldiers Koloth would negotiate to allow for shore leave rights on the station.

Darvin had been so occupied with his thoughts he had been surprised when the alarms had gone off before he had seen the familiar shape of a D7-class battle cruiser dropping out of warp close to the station. The alarm and the sight of the Klingon ship didn't just bring out feelings of nostalgia in Darvin, it also satisfied him because he was on schedule. But once the alarms died down, he had gone back to his solitary vigil, all the time he was at a loss of whether he should be on the alert or if he should relax. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he was positive the Defiant crew had already searched the storage areas and the industrial facilities of K7, but he wasn't worried about being found since they wouldn't know for sure if some areas like this cabin were used or not.

Still, that didn't alleviate his boredom and his sense of loss about what he could be doing with his time. While it was a possibility, Darvin had no intention of contacting his younger self despite the idea being simplicity in itself. The existence of time travel was only just becoming something known at this point in the 23rd century, and besides that Darvin knew if he personally encountered a version of himself then he would either think it was a trick, or something more malicious.

In any case and despite what he had in mind Darvin didn't want to cause too many changes to the timeline even if he truly didn't care about the long-term effects. While he would certainly be up to warn his younger self off about poisoning the grain with the virus, Darvin knew he couldn't since the poisoned grain was an integral part in the plan he had of making sure Kirk's death rang with a poetic irony.

Working out the precise time he needed to get to the grain to plant the bomb was simplicity in itself

Darvin checked the wall clock and nodded in satisfied relief. His younger self had infected the grain hours ago, and when he had checked outside and in the surrounding corridors he had found a few tribbles milling about, but he had gotten away from them before they screeched out at him. By now they should be in the storage compartment.

Picking up the bomb, Darvin headed out of the room and he ignored the few tribbles that were nearby though he gave them a wide berth, though he winced as they shrieked as he went past and he fought the urge to be physically sick at their very presence. On his way, he opened up a wall panel marked with the Federation medical symbol and pulled out a medical kit. A quick look inside told him he had everything he needed, and he hurried on his way to the storage compartment.

As he approached the empty corridors, Darvin couldn't help but think something he had thought a long time ago - relatively speaking - when he had been younger and had come down this very corridor to poison the grain inside the compartment. If Kirk had taken Barris seriously and posted guards, then the whole thing with the tribbles would have been avoided, but for the younger Darvin, he had been hoping the loss of Sherman's Planet would have caused a massive dent in Kirk's career.

But now, Darvin who was a century older, bitter with knowledge and experience, couldn't help but be glad that his task would be much easier. Once he had opened the panel and peered inside, he only needed a quick look to see there were tribbles inside. Dozens of them. They were gorging themselves on the grain, reproducing as they went.

Darvin opened the medikit and took out the small medical tricorder inside. A quick scan told him that some of the tribbles were already dead, though not many. That made sense given just how early he was, but the good news was dozens of them were dying. Holding onto hope the fuzzy miserable puffs of fur were too busy dying or eating, or in this case both, Darvin braced himself and went down the ladder slowly while he was both reassured and worried by the weight of the tricobalt bomb in his pocket.

Fortunately, the tribbles were too busy to properly pay any attention to him when his feet touched down on the grain, and he scanned them with the tricorder while he was trying to find out where the hatch Kirk would later open and have all of the tribbles tumble out of on top of him. Darvin found the hatch and a tribble which was very dead. He pushed down the slight disappointment he had about that given how he had hoped to have a tribble to kill, but he didn't have time and besides the quieter this job was the better even if he didn't know just how good the Federation security officers could hear.

Using his tricorder to find a dead tribble was simplicity in itself, and he found one close to the hatch. Darvin put down the tricorder and he reached for the medical kit and he put on a pair of thin plastic gloves which were kept there for the collection of bacteria that might not be affected by the sterile fields and a small laser scalpel. For the next two minutes, Darvin got to work and cutting open a clean slice in the tribbles' side before making it wider and deeper. Once he was finished with that chore, he readied the suture gun so he wouldn't need to reach for it later; he was on a tight schedule as it was, the last thing he wanted was to be in here too long, and he pulled out the tricobalt bomb carefully. It was shaped like a ball and was about the same size as one of those tennis balls he had once seen being played with at a game he had once witnessed on Earth with a built-in clock acting as the detonator.

It wasn't a particularly large bomb, but he knew it was powerful enough to do the job he wanted it to do.

Darvin made a quick calculation before he set the clock and when he was finished he saw the detonator was starting its cycle. He had set the bomb to explode within the next three hours, which should give him the time needed to find a way out; he was toying between finding a ship and get away from the station without the Enterprise or the Grothpaying any attention to him when the bomb exploded or finding some way of getting back to the Defiant so then he wouldn't have to live in this century again, although the possibilities of what a Kirk-free galaxy had to offer made him grin.

Stuffing the bomb into the tribble was a disgusting thing to do for anyone without any Klingon blood, but even Darvin was happy to finish off his messy task quickly. Once the bomb was safely inside the tribble's corpse, Darvin reached out for the suture gun and started to heal the wound he'd made before he cleaned it and then laid the tribble down on the grain as close to the hatch as he could.

He had no idea of just where the hatch was, but he hoped the tribble would go through it when Kirk opened the compartment to see if there were any tribbles inside. With a bit of luck, although it didn't really make any difference to him that much, the tribble would go through but even if it didn't the bomb would still be powerful enough to destroy the compartment walls and the shrapnel would definitely kill off Spock and Kirk at the same time.

Darvin climbed out of the compartment and in the nearby corridor, he spied a disposal unit and shoved the medical kit inside it before he hurried away. He had just three hours to find out what he planned to do, either risk going back to the Defiant or finding a ship and getting out of here as fast as he could.

One thing was for sure, he didn't want to be here when the bomb exploded.

* * *

Darvin seethed angrily as he was manhandled on the transporter pad by Worf and Odo. It was times like this he wished he had been born with the body of a conventional Klingon so he wouldn't be feeling so helpless. Still, he knew it was his own fault for wandering so close to the bar just when the fabled fight between the crews from both Koloth and Kirk's ships before he had spotted Odo and Worf in there. They had managed to catch up to him after a brief chase through the station's corridors, although Darvin had hoped a Starfleet security officer on their way to breaking up the fight would intervene and give him the chance to get free, it didn't happen.

Darvin stopped struggling when he found himself back in the dark, cramped transporter room of the Defiant. Odo let him go when he stopped struggling, although Worf didn't let him loose.

"Welcome back, Mr Darvin," Odo said sardonically.

Darvin grinned back at him as the delight of what he had left on K7 returned. "The pleasure is all mine," he said happily, though his happiness briefly evaporated when Worf, tired by the exchange, yanked him off the pad and hauled him across the room.

Worf, hold on." Odo called, forcing the two Klingons to come to a stop. Darvin studied Odo closely for a moment, wondering what the former shapeshifter had in mind.

"I hope you realise," Odo was saying as he stepped off of the pad and walked to where Darvin was standing, "you'll be facing some very serious charges when we get back."

Darvin grinned smugly back at Odo. "You wouldn't _dare _one of the greatest heroes of the Klingon Empire in the brig," he said as he looked with mock incredulity at Odo.

"You are no hero of the Empire!" Worf snapped while Darvin could see that Odo was intrigued by the statement.

"I will be," Darvin stated simply; he knew he shouldn't be talking, but he knew they didn't have a hope in saving Kirk now. Even if they wasted their time searching for the bomb he'd planted on the station, these idiots would have to cope with the rapid multiplication of the tribbles, and it would slow them down. And besides, a little bit of boasting wouldn't hurt in his mind. He had been deprived of a chance to show off his skills and intellect for a long time and now he had the opportunity he was going to make the best of it, although he knew he would need to keep quiet on certain details.

"I've been thinking about my statue in the Hall of Warriors," Darvin went on conversationally, inwardly grinning when he saw the livid expression on Worf's face while out of the corner of his eye he saw Odo look exasperated, "I want it to capture my essence. Our statues can be so…generic sometimes, don't you think?" he asked Worf.

"I take it whatever your plan is you've already set it into motion," Odo said, his voice making Darvin jump at the suddenness of the interruption, sounding exasperated by the talk of statues and heroes of the Klingon Empire.

Darvin knew he should probably stop talking, but along with being unable to show off his intellect he had also developed a burning contempt for his own race although it had started a long time before the mission to K7 had even come his way which in turn had ruined his life, and having another Klingon around to vent his feelings on made him open his mouth and continue gloating.

"I see myself standing with Kirk's head," he held out his right hand, picturing Kirk's head there with his eyes wide open, "in on hand, " and he held out his left hand while picturing a tribble there, "and a tribble in the other."

Alright, he had no idea if the Klingons would even give him the statue, but at this point, it didn't hurt to try his luck.

Darvin grinned at Odo, but when he was suddenly swung around and he felt the massive paws on his jacket he found himself looking straight into Worf's fierce eyes, and he couldn't help but feel the same burning jealousy he'd had all his life towards the peers he'd grown up with who'd been considered normal in Klingon society. He knew if his father and grandfather were alive, they would be approving of Worf, who was everything they could hope for in a son, even if he was a traitor in the eyes of Klingon society.

"_What have you done? _Did you hire someone to kill him? Did you sabotage the Enterprise?" Worf growled out and made Darvin only just stop himself from laughing out aloud.

_**This **__is one of the problems I have with other Klingons, _Darvin thought with disdain as he sneered at Worf, amazed by just how stupid the ideas were. How could he have gotten on board the Enterprise? These idiots might have had access to Starfleet uniforms and had been beamed onboard at different places, but if he'd been transported onboard he would have been caught out instantly. As for an assassin…where would he have found one since K7 wasn't the type of place to look for one?

"Nothing so mundane," Darvin replied as his smugness returned. "Let's just say that Kirk's death will have a certain poetic justice to it."

He laughed in their faces and he was still laughing all the way to the brig before they interrogated him.

* * *

_The bomb should have exploded by now, _Darvin later thought to himself as he sat on the bunk in the brig, watched closely by the two Starfleet officers who had been assigned to guard him. They weren't taking any chances with him; he had already been searched and scanned thoroughly, and everything he'd had in his pockets had been confiscated. He was just glad all the incriminatory evidence against him such as the bomb itself was no longer in his possession.

But now he was trying his level best to get as comfortable as he could while he waited for news, and he was trying to remember what he had heard about changing history. Did you experience it at once as though the changes were rippling through time, or did you have to travel forwards in time to see what the changes had done?

As he sat on the bunk, Darvin thought about everything he had done.

It had been disconcerting being on K7 once more after so long of hating it, but it had been even worse knowing that a younger version of himself had been running around, but he had seen members of his own race who were still suffering from the effects of the Augment mess his people had dabbled in the 22nd century after they had become paranoid that humans were developing an army of genetically-engineered human soldiers.

Those Klingons…

They were so ignorant of the future and what it held. They didn't know of the Genesis disaster that would be cropping up, the missed opportunity of the Cetacean probe where they could have sent a fleet to take care of Starfleet shortly before the probe left. They didn't know about the Praxis disaster, Chang's attempted coup, the Khitomer Accords, and the Narendra III massacre.

Darvin pushed that out of his mind before he closed his eyes and wondered once more what changing history would feel like when he reopened his eyes when he heard something outside and as soon as he opened his eyes he spotted Captain Sisko stepping into the room, still dressed in a 23rd century Starfleet officer's uniform in gold. Darvin couldn't help but smile, thinking the uniform actually suited the man.

"Hello, Captain," Darvin smiled at the man in a cool, smug manner as Sisko walked towards the cell. "What can I do for you? Oh, if you're thinking of asking the greatest hero of the Klingon Empire anything, well this is the best time; I can't see myself being in here long enough anymore. On that subject, what's going on?"

Sisko said nothing as he came to a halt. Silently he pulled out something he had been hiding behind his back and he held it out. Darvin leaned forward, his eyes widening in horror when he caught sight of one of those old-fashioned PADDS he had never gotten the name of while at the same time he saw Sisko's finger-pointing at a certain part. A time? But then he saw something that made him go cold with dread. On it was a signature belonging to someone whom Darvin knew and hated, but the moment the former Klingon spy saw it his mind shut down and went into denial.

_No. _

_NO! _

_NO! IT'S NOT POSSIBLE! _

_How is this POSSIBLE?_

The signature, almost as if it was there mocking him, belonged to _James T. Kirk!_

"I guess you're not going to get that statue, after all, Darvin," Sisko's deep voice broke through his thoughts, and Darvin looked up furiously, glaring at Sisko with loathing.

He had never imagined he would hate anybody with the same intensity that he hated Kirk with, not even the members of the family who had degraded and mocked him throughout his life.

But now he did.

He had Benjamin Sisko to hate. As he glared at the human furiously, there was only one question he had to ask.

"But _how?" _

Sisko just spared him a brief smile and walked out.

"HOW!?" Darvin screeched as he suddenly found himself on his feet.

But there was no reply.

"I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS SISKO, I GUARANTEE IT! ONE DAY, YOU'LL PAY!" Darvin screamed.

But there was no reply and Darvin collapsed onto the bunk, rocking back and forth as he saw the only chance he'd had of making things right vanish in a puff of smoke. And he had no idea what he was going to do next.

* * *

Author's note - I couldn't resist putting in the notes of General Chang, Praxis, and Narendra III, and how Darvin did consider simply telling his younger self about them but was unsure if they would unfold with Kirk's death.


End file.
